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Shaoyou was, by all accounts, a paragon of virtue. The golden son, the sole heir of the illustrious Sheng family, he had meticulously internalized every moral lesson his mother had imparted during his formative years. His code was rigid, his ethics seemingly unimpeachable. If the principle dictated that he must treat Omegas with respect and absolute equality, he would adhere to it flawlessly. If the law demanded that he turn a criminal over to the authorities, the Shaoyou of the past would not have hesitated.
He was the embodiment of the sacred Scriptures' teachings—a man whose life was a testament to his deeply held faith. He was admired, almost revered, for this sterling character. Yet, even a golden veneer can hide a single, telling flaw: Shaoyou was a player, a man constitutionally incapable of committing to a long-term, serious relationship.
This avoidance stemmed from a deep-seated fear: the dread of becoming his father, a man who had indulged in dalliances even while married. Shaoyou was terrified of making the wrong choice of Omega, of realizing his mistake too late, and inflicting the kind of irreparable emotional damage he’d witnessed. Consequently, he only ever engaged in casual relationships, often limited to mere pleasure partners sought out to see him through the biological intensity of his ruts. He committed to the moment, but never to the future.
The low, rhythmic tremor of his shaking legs finally ceased when the heavy door of the interrogation room creaked open. Shaoyou immediately straightened his spine, adopting the composed, regal posture expected of a Sheng heir. He watched as a tall, young woman entered the sterile, dimly lit room. She was petite for her height, with shoulder-length, straight dark hair that seemed to absorb the meager light. Her movements were economical, precise. Shaoyou’s instincts, honed by his S-class Alpha status and years of social maneuvering, immediately registered her as an S-class Alpha female.
She carried a slim, brown folder which she placed with a quiet thud on the table separating them before taking the seat directly across from him. Her expression was neutral, her eyes an intense, unwavering blue that seemed to take in every minute detail of his reaction.
“I’m sorry for the sudden invitation, Mr. Sheng,” she began, her voice a low, steady alto that brooked no argument. “I am Zoelle Reeves, a police investigator from Country P.”
Shaoyou couldn't suppress a quiet, derisive scoff. In his mind, the very idea of Country P—a place notorious as a haven for the most hardened of criminals, a veritable lawless territory—having a legitimate police force was absurd. He remained silent, however, unwilling to engage in a debate that would only waste time.
Zoelle Reeves didn't react to his skepticism. She simply pushed the folder a fraction closer to him. “Six months ago, a wanted criminal fled Country P. Our tracking efforts led us directly here, to the city of Jianghu. We invited you today because a review of CCTV footage from around your neighborhood—specifically a service alley near your secondary residence—placed you in close proximity to the subject at a critical time.” She paused, allowing her words to settle. “We know that you found him, Mr. Sheng. I simply need to know his current location. He is an extremely dangerous individual.”
Shaoyou sighed, his shoulders subtly slumping as he dropped his gaze to the polished, scuffed surface of the table. He didn't dispute her claim. He knew, with a certainty that had settled like a heavy stone in his gut, that the man he had saved that dark night was indeed a highly dangerous person.
“I don't know,” he lied, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. A flicker of something akin to sadness crossed his features, so fleeting that only a trained eye like Zoelle’s could catch it.
Zoelle nodded slowly, her expression unchanged.
“Understood. Can you tell me, in detail, what happened that night?”
Shaoyou took a deep, steadying breath, gathering the details of the meticulously constructed lie he had been preparing for weeks. His voice, naturally smooth and authoritative, was now carefully modulated to sound regretful and shaken.
“I was driving back to my primary residence late that night,” Shaoyou began, leaning forward slightly, crafting a narrative of conscientious citizenship. “I had been doing a final late-night patrol of the neighborhood perimeter. Our family takes security very seriously.”
“It was just after 2:00 AM when I took a detour through a less-trafficked service lane. I saw a dark shape slumped against the wall in the deepest corner. When I stopped the car, I realized it was a person. They were absolutely reeking of blood, and their clothes were shredded. The sheer potency of their pheromone was overwhelming, far more intense and commanding than any S-class Alpha I had ever encountered.”
He swallowed, focusing on the crucial misdirection. “However, the scent itself was floral. It was a rich, heavy, intoxicating fragrance of ghost orchid. The intensity was bewildering, but the type—the floral note—made me immediately jump to one conclusion: Omega. I am… I am deeply against the abuse of Omegas. It's a conviction I hold sacred. Seeing someone—especially an Omega, in my mind—so brutally wounded and abandoned… I couldn't leave him.”
Shaoyou explained how his virtuous principles had overridden his caution. He had bundled the heavily bleeding, unconscious stranger into his car, taken him to his secluded villa—the very place Zoelle’s camera had spotted him—where he felt he could treat the man's wounds discreetly.
“I cleaned him up, applied sutures myself, and administered broad-spectrum antibiotics. I fed him, gave him new clothes, and allowed him to stay and recover. He was too injured to speak for the first week. I believed I was simply upholding my mother’s teaching: do not let the injured suffer.”
He maintained a look of deep distress. “I didn't know the first thing about his background. I was operating under the pure, simple belief that I was saving a victim of horrific violence.”
Zoelle listened without interruption, her gaze never leaving his. When he finished, she simply asked, her voice flat, “When exactly did you find out who he was?”
“It was a week and a half ago,” Shaoyou replied, the tremor he now allowed in his voice feeling almost real. “I was in my office in the main city tower, reviewing international news feeds, and happened upon a broadcast from Country P. There, on the screen, was his face, connected to a list of horrifying crimes. A criminal, not a victim. And definitely not an Omega.“
He painted a picture of righteous panic. “I immediately tried calling the burner phone I'd given him for a swift explanation. He wasn't answering. I drove home at breakneck speed. When I arrived, my private guards and the household staff were all unconscious—drugged. He was gone, vanished without a trace, taking nothing but the clothes on his back.”
Zoelle watched the visible shaking in Shaoyou's hands as he placed them flat on the table. She observed the way his normally controlled pheromones were spiking erratically, not with aggression, but with a palpable, sickening fear. Sheng Shaoyou, the proud, S-class Alpha, was genuinely shaken. She sighed inwardly. She had seen it countless times. Even the most arrogant and powerful Alphas were reduced to this state when faced with a truly terrifying force—a force that transcended the standard Alpha,Beta,Omega dynamic. Shaoyou hadn't just rescued a criminal; he had rescued a one-in-a-million Enigma. The pheromone signature he had described—intensely potent, yet distinctly floral—was a textbook match for the fugitive.
Zoelle Reeves ultimately decided the Alpha was too traumatized to be deliberately lying about the disappearance. He had made a mistake based on his misplaced virtuousness, and the criminal had simply taken advantage of the opening. She dismissed him, her final instruction a simple, “If he contacts you, Mr. Sheng, you are required by law to inform us immediately.”
The moment Shaoyou stepped out of the granite-and-steel façade of the police station, he was met by Chen Pinming, his personal secretary. Pinming was a reliable Beta, only two years older than his boss, impeccably dressed and efficiently holding the door to the waiting luxury sedan. The secretary’s face was etched with concern, a testament to his years of loyal service to the Sheng family.
“Mr. Sheng,” Pinming said quietly, his voice pitched so as not to carry, “I've taken the liberty of directing the driver to your private villa outside the main city. I figured you'd prefer to be away from the press and the noise after that ordeal.”
Shaoyou simply nodded, a tight, terse gesture of assent. The villa was indeed the place he frequented now, a quiet refuge that had recently become the center of his world.
As they drove, Pinming stole glances at his boss in the rearview mirror. He was confused. The sudden flight to the secluded villa—it didn't track with the story of the criminal disappearing from that very house. And then there was the scent.
Pinming’s Beta nose wasn't as sensitive as an Alpha’s, but he hadn't failed to notice a distinct, powerful ghost orchid pheromone clinging to the outer walls and even the air of the villa’s grounds when he’d dropped off supplies the day before. It was the same, unforgettable scent—a rich, sweet, yet somehow threatening floral note—that had permeated the air during the weeks the ‘Omega victim’ had supposedly been recuperating there.
He’s just using the house to cool off and wait for things to blow over, Pinming rationalized, sticking firmly to his boss's narrative. Mr. Sheng is the golden son. He would never harbor a criminal. He’s too virtuous. The secretary’s respect for Shaoyou was an impenetrable shield against doubt. He believed, wholeheartedly, that his boss’s virtue would compel him to turn over the wanted man, and thus, the criminal must have genuinely vanished.
Pinming was so lost in the comfort of his boss’s established, golden reputation that he failed to notice the subtle, yet world-altering details.
As the car pulled up the long, winding driveway of the villa, a figure emerged from the entrance, moving with a fluid grace that defied the laws of ordinary kinetics. It was a man of breathtaking beauty, whose dark hair was now meticulously styled, and whose features, though hardened by a life of crime, softened into a look of profound, possessive affection. His eyes, the color of molten gold, were fixed solely on Shaoyou.
Pinming was busy signaling the driver to wait and pulling out his phone to check his emails, the scent of ghost orchid now a faint, almost negligible background note. He didn't see the beautiful man approach the S-class Alpha with open arms, didn't hear the soft, possessive purr that vibrated from the Enigma’s chest.
Pinming missed the sight of the criminal showering his beloved boss with a flurry of soft, gentle kisses all over his face, completely unmarked by fear or hesitation.
He didn't hear the soft, welcoming whisper that was meant only for Shaoyou's ears: “Welcome home, Mr. Sheng.”
Chen Pinming turned the car around and drove away, a picture of efficient loyalty, believing the criminal was long gone. He was one of the many who had fallen victim to Sheng Shaoyou’s masterfully crafted lie.
The Beta secretary knew his boss well, perhaps better than anyone professionally, but he was oblivious to the seismic shift that had occurred in Shaoyou's life. He didn't know that Shaoyou’s stomach held a precious, yet dangerous secret: new life. The life of his child, conceived with the very man who had marked him—an Enigma named Hua Yong.
He didn't know the full, astonishing extent of the lengths to which Shaoyou’s corrupted virtue would now compel him to go. The golden son, the paragon of morality, would become a perfect liar, a willing accomplice, a shield of respectability, risking his inheritance and his freedom—all to keep Hua Yong, the dangerous Enigma, the love of his life, and the father of his unborn child, safe from the clutches of the law.
But that, Shaoyou knew, as he melted into the embrace of his criminal lover, his carefully constructed life now a beautifully woven deception, is another story entirely.